48HRMagazine just created is first issue (Issue 0) and its theme was Hustle.  Below is my submission (too lazy to fix formatting translation errors), and here is another piece that was not accepted which helps define ‘hustle’ (focusing mainly on an activist oriented approach, as opposed to a labor based approach) even though we all know what it is.  Below my submission is a link to a YouTube clip that must be seen (thanks again to Blinkered Bunny for this tip).

The best hustle in New Orleans is Test Tubes.  We were just in from New York City, DC, Miami, Minneapolis, Dallas and Los Angeles for a bachelor party.  The name of the bar was lost in the haze, but it had an upstairs patio overlooking Bourbon Street where we immediately went.

I was first.  She was cute and the shot was a reasonable three dollars.  She put the test tubes in her mouth, the bottoms clinched in her teeth.  Gripping my ears, she pulled my mouth onto hers and she grabbed my belt and she pulled me down and our heads tilted and the tubes dumped into my mouth.

“Nice.”

“Six dollars.”

“Three dollars?”

“Two tubes, honey.”

“Nice.  Keep the change.”  She winked at me.  Knowingly.

The next girl came a few minutes later.  She had a crooked mouth and thick arms and she began on the other side of the group.  She also had a chest and would alternate the tubes between there and her mouth.

“Nice rack.”  Some spectators were amused.

“Get to ya’ll next.”  She was not amused.

She made her way through the six of us with no delay.  I was last and JP was before me. He shot off her chest and handed her a twenty, which she dropped into her bra.  JP squished his eyebrows and she turned to me.

“Sorry, I just gave all my cash to your friend.  She got here first.”  Come on, honey.  Her eyes twinkled.  “No, seriously.”  I showed her my wallet, seeking her approval.  She turned to the group and asked if anyone would cover me.

“Take it out of my change.  Fourteen dollars.”  I took the shots from her mouth.

“Six dollars.”

“Told ya, don’t have it.  Take it out of his change.”

“Six dollars.”  She addressed the group.

“Take it out of my change.”  Each time JP mentioned his $14 change ($8 after my shots) she slapped him on the back of the head, “that’s in the past.”

It was amusing.  A cat playing with a mouse.  We thought she was the mouse.  We formed a circle and JP mentioned his $14.  She grabbed his crotch and twisted.  JP shifted.  Instead of moving with the twist he turned against it and crumpled.

We all cringed in unison.  Hand to the groin.  Step back.   She juked out of the middle and we paid the six dollars.

“No tip?”

“You already got it.”  JP squeeked.

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